


remain nameless

by volchitza



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 07:38:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volchitza/pseuds/volchitza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Meant to be" isn't all there is to someone's love life; sometimes things are smaller, and sometimes they don't work out, but there still was a time in which you thought they could mean something. [rated mature for the second chapter; there is no sexual content in the first chapter]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [duskendales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/duskendales/gifts).



> Composed of two chapters: the first is set before the beginning of season one to the very beginning of it, and the second is set mid-season one.
> 
> I've called him Jason because it means "healer" and it starts with a J, as in James Whale, director of Frankestein (1931).
> 
> [I apologize for any mistakes I've made, but this is unbeta'ed]

It started because Mary worked as a volunteer at the Storybrooke General Hospital, and Whale noticed her among the kids and the flowers she put beside each patient’s bed, with a smile for everyone, even the sleeping ones, or the ones who couldn’t even acknowledge her loving presence.

After a while, his smiles in her direction weren’t only smiles of courtesy anymore, and she smiled back, just before shyly busying herself with bed covers or re-arranging the presents some of the visitors left for the patients in a nicer display.

“C’mon, let me help you”, he told her one day, leaning into the vending machine she was fighting with to get an Apollo bar. She took a step to the side; he hit the machine with a single, sharp stroke and the Apollo bar fell into the drawer. The doctor handed it to her, and she smiled as their fingers brushed.

“Thank you, dr. Whale”, she said.

“You can call me Jason”, he replied, looking at her straight in the eye.

Mary looked down, embarrassed, and tilted her head to the side, biting her lower lip to fight a smile.

He bent slightly forward, smirking, and she laughed.

 

She took more time to choose her clothes on the days when she was on duty at the hospital, and she took more time to get away if he was too busy working. Sometimes he would have no time, and would only glance at her from a distance, while going through patient files, or discussing with other doctors. It was a routine she liked to settle into.

One day, when she was chatting with a child from her class who had been in a hospital bed for two weeks, he walked up to her.

“So, how’s our little patient today?”, he asked, cheerful.

“Oh, Tommy is fine, isn’t he?”, she answered. Tommy nodded. “He’s going back home today”. She patted his foot under the covers and got up.

Jason followed her as she made the empty beds and tugged the children’s covers. “And how are you?”, he asked, his voice lower both in volume and tone. Mary smiled a little nostalgic smile and sighed. “Nothing special, really. The most exciting thing in my life lately has been learning new pie recipes”.

He chuckled, helping her with her work. “I’m sure you are a great cook. You look like someone who would make fantastic pies”.

“You mean I look like a housewife?”, she mocked him; he frowned, almost offended.

“No, of course not. You look like someone who puts their heart into things”.

She stopped folding sheets for a moment, and looked at him. “Thank you”, she said, with a warm light in her eyes.

“You’re welcome”, he answered simply, going on with his work.

She went back to hers contently, eyeing him when she thought he wouldn’t notice.

When they finished the room, he excused himself with a tired sigh and a sincere smile.

“Good night, then”, she wished him, and watched as he walked away, his white coat flapping behind him.

 

Two weeks later, when she had the late shift again, Mary brought him a raspberry tart. She said nothing in the two brief moments they bumped into each other, but she waited for him outside, wearing her favourite red cardigan and some perfume. His tired expression lit up when he saw her, and her heartbeat accellerated.

“Hi!”

“Hi”.

They looked at each other for a few seconds, but she decided to break the moment, handing him the paper bag she was holding.

“Oh! What is it? It’s not my birthday”, he said, positively surprised.

She blushed rather furiously, and waved it off. “Well, it _could_ be your birthday for all that I know. Besides, it’s nothing, really”.

He peered into the bag, but the streetlights only allowed him to see a card (which simply stated «for Jason. Mary» in an elegant cursive, and was the tenth attempt she made at it, eliminating all the «kisses, Mary», or «love, Mary», or even «I hope you like it», or the _horrible_ «xoxo») and a round package covered in tinfoil. “It smells wonderful! You - you made it for me?”

Mary smiled awkwardly, holding her elbow with her left hand.

“Is it - what is it? It’s some sort of berry fruit. Is it blueberry?”, he tried.

She laughed. “Actually, it’s raspberry. Would you have preferred blueberries?”, she hurriedly asked, and it was his turn to laugh.

“No! Raspberries are fine. Raspberries are perfect”, he said, slowing down as he looked with intense fondness at her.

Mary put her hand on his shoulder to stand on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek with her eyes firmly closed.

“Good night”, she said, and lowered her head before walking away with her hands in her pockets, leaving him to stand there, a raspberry tart in one hand and her soft kiss on his cheek.

 

The next day he called her during lunch break. She was surprised to hear his voice.

“How did you get my number?”

“I have my ways”, he answered, lowering his voice.

“What ways?”, she asked, her fingers playing with the phone wire.

“You can’t expect a man to reveal his secrets”, he flirted, bending forward a little, as if she were in front of him. The sound of her giggle was delightful to his ears; he bit his lower lip, simply listening to her laughter.

“I was right”, he said.

“What about?”

“Your cooking abilities. It was the best tart I’ve ever eaten”.

“Oh, stop it, it wasn’t” (he imagined her blush).

“It was! Just don’t tell Granny”.

This made her laugh more. “Well, I’m happy you liked it”.

“I did. I did. Thank you”.

 

She bumped into him at the grocery store - literally.

“Sorry”, she exclaimed.

“Don’t worry”, he brushed it off, “are you alright?”

“Yes, of course! I was just, kind of, I wasn’t paying attention”, she explained, lifting her head to meet his eyes.

For a moment the look Jason gave her was so intense she was sure he was going to kiss her; but then he cleared his throat and looked away, so she thought to herself that she was a fool.

They did their shopping together, chatting about their lives and their favourite brand of coffee and the increasing prices of food.

“Well, I have to bring the milk home”, she said, once outside the shop.

“Can I help you with the bags?”, he offered, stretching out a hand to get one of hers, but she shook her head, taking a step backwards.

“That’s really kind of you, but no, thanks, they’re quite light”.

He made no move, so she added a “Really! I can manage” in a shrill tone.

He lifted a hand as in defeat and nodded understandingly.

“All right. See you tomorrow at the hospital, then?”.

She smiled, privately relieved. “See you tomorrow!”, she repeated, and they both went their separate ways.

 

He was waiting for her by the vending machines, as had become a little habit of theirs.

“Jason! I thought you wouldn’t have time, with the boy who broke his leg and the one with a commotion”.

“I made time”, he told her. “And it’s not as bad as you make it sound. The kid with the broken leg has been very lucky, the bone isn’t dislocated. I’ve seen a lot worse”.

She nodded, stirring her tea. “I’ve been worried I would have to come earlier, today”. He looked puzzled. “One of my kids had started a fight with another over a toy, and I had to call for help to separate them”.

“To separate two ten-years-old children?”, he teased her, and she jokingly punched his chest.

“Well, first of all, you might’ve noticed I’m not much bigger than them. And second, you should’ve seen them! Teeth bared and hair-pulling!”.

Jason nodded gravely, trying not to laugh. “You’re absolutely right, I’m sure it was awful.”

“Terrible indeed”

“Astonishing. Kids...”

“I might just punch you again, you know?”, she teased him, but they were interrupted by a nurse.

“Rescued by the bell!”, he murmured, and she wondered if, in a year’s time or so, she would still find herself waiting for him in the hospital corridors, or if, maybe, things would be different, for once.

 

Mary didn’t dare to tell Ruby anything - half because of some stupid superstition, half because she was worried she was fooling herself. So she turned down her offer to spend a girls’ night together (she was never the best of liars, and Ruby spotted lies as if she could _smell_ them on you), in favour of a night on her sofa watching a random movie on tv with a bucket of icecream and a blanket.

She was thinking about how unfair it was that people like Julia Roberts existed and had actual hair, when her phone rang with a text from Jason Whale, asking her if she was still awake. She started digiting feeling like a teenage girl.

‘Actually, I’m watching Pretty Woman’, she texted.

‘Not really my favourite kind of movie, I’m afraid. Still, which channel?’, he replied quickly.

Mary took another spoonful of icecream. Her evening had just got a lot better.

 

Days and weeks passed, unchangingly, and maybe the colours around them weren’t brighter than usual and the sun didn’t shine any differently than it always did, but they both smiled more, and both had something special to think about when a particular song came on the radio or when they drove to work in the morning; both had something to look forward to, and maybe they had started to feel more optimistic.

 

“So, I was thinking...”, he began to say one day, “instead of this crappy coffee, I could buy you dinner one of these days”.

“Oh!”, she exclaimed, eyes wide open. “I- yes, well, I would like that very much”, she answered, face bright and young, and even if he did not believe in a God above, he felt thankful in his heart.

“Wednesday? After your shift?”

 

On Wednesday, after school, Mary prepared herself with particular care. After she’d taken a shower, she stood in a towel in front of her chest of drawers, and she couldn’t decide whether or not she could put on sexy underwear, or if it was too much for a first date, or if it even counted as a first date, because one could say they had been to unofficial dates before, and all those times he walked her home, and then lunch breaks together, and – Mary threw herself face first on her bed. “Stop acting like a twelve-year-old!”, she scolded herself. “Everything’s going to be just fine”.

Repeating that to herself, she sat up, and picked some white lingerie, modestly sexy, from a drawer.

 

At the hospital they didn’t have the chance to talk, but he frequently looked at her across the beds, making her blush and smile. He noticed how she was prettier than usual from afar, and Mary thought he had combed his hair differently. As the time of their date neared, they busied themselves more and more with their respective tasks, smiling stupidly in anticipation. “Five minutes”, he mouthed to her over a nurse’s shoulder; then two ambulances took in three young boys who’d been in an accident, and the paramedics announced that other two were on their way. Jason gave a series of sharp orders as Mary stood there, watching her romantic evening fade in front of her eyes. As soon as he had taken care of the two worst cases’ situation, Jason turned and sighed in her direction. “Look at this tangle of thorns”, he quoted, almost as an apology, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Well, Nabokov, can I do anything to help?”, she asked, opening her arms in a gesture of defeat.

“Other two are coming, and one should be able to talk. Comfort him, try to understand what happened”.

“Got it”.

He hurried away.

 

They agreed they would go out on Friday instead; but the atmosphere had shifted, quite - in an irrational way they could not understand or describe. As if there was something between them, which had fallen and became damaged; it hadn’t been broken, but the outside of it had been ruined, and there was no going back to its previous, untouched state.

She didn’t meet his eyes over the beds, and she had put on plain cotton underwear. He felt strange as well, nervous, out of his element, and they barely spoke a weak “See you at Granny’s” to each other before separating for the afternoon.

 

Ten hours later, Mary Margareth was lying on her bed, looking at the ceiling, hands on her belly and tears welled in the corners of her eyes. Oh, she had had such high hopes! But she had started rambling and she could see how distracted he was, and she just couldn’t believe it. How could things with such good premises go so wrong? How could they have made such a huge mistake, not realizing how terribly incompatible they were? Had they been someone else all the time?

She sighed, closing her eyes. Her tears rolled down her face into her ears, but she didn’t even lift a hand to dry them.

 

She didn’t show up at the hospital on Monday, giving herself the weak excuse of otherwise having no time to prepare the lessons for the next day’s classes. She knew she couldn’t avoid him forever, though, and she told herself that she was over it, because nothing had really happened, now, had it? Nothing had happened.

“Mary!”, he called her as soon as he saw her, the guilt on his face carving wrinkles between his eyebrows and dark signs under his eyes. She looked straight at him, chin up, the expression on her face hard. Jason opened his mouth, helpless, feeling all of his words crumbling down inside him. He couldn’t bring himself to say ‘Sorry I ruined everything by being a dick the other night’, and he cowardly hoped she would understand how he felt, read it in his eyes. The truth was he had drunk slightly too much before their meeting, and alcohol brought out the worse in him, the man he would’ve never wanted her to see, the man he would’ve never wanted to be with her. But he knew how pathetic and lame an excuse it sounded - he knew, above all, that she deserved better; so he stepped back, his head hung low, and that was all there was to it, the disappointment in her eyes burning in his brain and settling between them like a wall.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is set a couple of days after Whale comforts Mary at Granny's and buys her two drinks; there will be sex, so be warned.

Jason had no illusions about her call to meet him again, weeks later: he accepted her motivations because as much as he wasn’t good at dealing with his own emotions, he still understood people and how they worked. He wouldn’t be a doctor if he didn’t.

He wasn’t in love with Mary, of course, but he had a strong affection in her regards, and he was happy to be the one she would call at her lowest.

He brought her out to dinner to a real restaurant, with candles and all, and they were both content in the knowledge that they had put their past behind them, leaving no romantic expectations from their relationship, only a refreshing feeling of mutual respect. He was even able to make her laugh, and maybe for a moment he regretted how things hadn’t worked out the first time - and this wasn’t a second time either.

Jason paid for dinner, insisting that he would not hear a word about it, and this time she let him.

 

Mary followed him to his apartment, so very different from hers. He was clearly rich, and clearly lonely. His furniture was essential, metallic, and squared - no round lines, and no paintings or photographs anywhere. Her heart clenched at the sight of it, but she said nothing.

She took off the coat he had put on her shoulders on their way to his place and put it on the sofa, then walked down the dark corridor, past a remarkable hi-fi with some dust settled on it to the illuminated room from which she could hear water running. She saw Jason from behind; he was washing his hands in the kitchen sink.

“Please, take a seat”, he said over his shoulder, but she asked for the bathroom instead. “Down the corridor, last door to the left”, he explained.

When Mary came back to the kitchen, she sat down at the table and watched him washing something she could not see; she observed how his figure took up space in that room too big for a man alone, its excessive cleanliness betraying the fact that it wasn’t used much. His movements were similar to the ones he made while operating: efficient, sharp, definite. There was no waste of time in his demeanor; a nice quality to be looking for in a man, she noticed, almost like an afterthought.

He put the freshly cleaned boiler on the stove, saying “Do you remember that time I told you about my special tea? I-”. He stopped abruptly, taken aback by Mary, suddenly standing by him with a hand on the gas knob. She turned it off.

“I remember”, she said, and kissed him, determined and open-mouthed, her boldness going straight to his head like strong liquor drank on an empty stomach.

He broke the kiss and swallowed hard, unsure, afraid of mistaking her intentions - she read the silent question in his eyes and as silently answered, taking his hands to her chest and unbuttoning her blouse.

Sucking air through his teeth, Jason took her up and placed her on the kitchen counter, giving no thought to the clashing metallic objects he pushed away behind her.

She threw her blouse on the floor as he pulled off her her jeans; they kissed again, hungry, greedy, all-reaching. Mary opened his shirt, revealing his lean and muscular torso, and put her mouth on the hollow of his collarbones, marking his skin with red, angry stains, soon fading to white; his hands went to her chest, unlacing her bra, and she gave a sigh almost like a hiccup as he started massaging her breasts. He felt her relax as her nipples hardened under his fingers, so he put his mouth to them and smiled when she fisted his hair. Jason then sneaked a hand into her panties, making her shiver when he started caressing her clit in small circles, then slipped the tip of one finger inside her. She clinged to his shoulders as he caressed her, delicate and strong at the same time; her chin went up, up, up, and he kissed her white throat. He listened closely to her for the whole time he moved his fingers inside her - how her voice got caught in her mouth, and how her body throbbed, and with how much strenght she pushed him closer to her with her legs. Mary took his head between her hands and kissed him briefly, then pressed her forehead to his when he lifted her and took her to his bedroom. He stopped on the doorframe and she held herself to his neck with one arm, while the other stumbled blindly behind her for the light switch.

Jason carried her to the bed and knelt down on the floor; she laughed when he dragged her towards him by her legs and took her panties off. He took her right foot in his hand and slowly placed light kisses on her ankle, then her calf, then her thigh. He went on to lick the soft, smooth skin behind her knee, methodically; she sighed, feeling her temperature increase and increase, and her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the bed when he placed her leg on his shoulder then nuzzled his lips and nose down her inner thigh to her cunt.

He kissed and licked and sucked, gentle but firm and steady; her breath grew shorter and shorter until the warmth inside her exploded, and her pleasure found release; while she was still coming down, he kissed her belly button and got up.

Mary stood on her knees on the bed. “You’ve still got your pants on”, she said, undoing his belt.

“Believe me, I’ve noticed”, he replied, unzipping them, and leant forward to kiss her on her smiling mouth.

She inhaled deeply through her nose and kissed him back, making him fall on the bed as soon as he had kicked off the pants.

“I really hope you’ve got a-”, she started saying, but stopped when he picked up a condom from his bedside table, stretching over her. “Well, you do”.

His fingertips traced light paths on her body; he knew its geography, the way every bone shaped the flesh and the way every muscle stretched under the skin. He knew secret places where to kiss her: on a particular spot behind her ear, on a pulsating artery on her neck, under her chin, on her ribcage, the soft flesh of the underside of one arm, on her hipbones, in the hollow at the base of her back, on the curve of her neck, between her shoulderblades, his mouth hot and wet but still delicate, and almost reverent when he sucked her breasts. She slipped her fingers through his hair, pulling it, massaging his head, holding him to her.

“Jason–”, she called; it was all he needed. His fingers entwined with hers under a pillow as he entered her; her teeth, which had been gritted with anticipation, opened in a moan of pleasure. They felt overwhelmed by the feverish wholeness of the world around them - their own panting filling their ears, his thrusts inside her guided by the push of her heels in his back, sweating skin on skin and hips on hips and fingers entwined and pleasure rising, all at once, sensation over sensation over sensation and their disconnected words stumbling out of their mouths, until his name at the back of her throat didn’t sound like a name anymore, until it was just their mouths on each other’s, not even kissing, just touching.

Her back hurt from the tension that kept it arched; when her pleasure became almost painful with intensity, Jason slowed down his rhythm, adjusting to her, giving her time to steady her breathing before he braced himself to give a final thrust and finally, _finally_ she came, breathless, her back more arched than ever and her eyes rolled backwards.

Jason felt all of her muscles twitch and relax under him as he came as well. He paused, placing a long kiss on her temple before pulling out of her and letting himself fall on the bed for a moment, before quickly getting up to go to the bathroom and coming back, slipping into bed with her again.

With their eyes closed, they reached for each other and rested under the covers for a while, silent, listening to each other’s breathing. She got up first, but only to wear her underwear and his shirt she picked up the floor before climbing back to bed. They burst out laughing for no apparent reason and started playing, rolling and kissing and biting at each other, lips and tongue one moment and teeth the next. He let her win the fight, so she sat on top of him, holding his arms above his head and lowering her head at the level of his face to whisper “I won” in his ear; when she straightened her back Jason looked at her - messy black hair, white thighs at either side of his hips, healthily flushed face, a genuine smile on her lips and wearing nothing but lace underwear and his shirt, incredibly big on her small frame - and he thought he’d never seen anything more erotic in his whole life. The thought sinked in as the image of her got burned on his retinas, unforgettable; then Mary started tracing wavy lines down his chest and his abdomen with her tongue, down to his hips and below.  
“Oh man”, he uttered. His head jerked back as he made a hissing sound out of his teeth. “Oh man. Oh - _fuck_ ”.

 

Mary stayed in bed a little while longer than he did, lingering in the warmth of the covers.

Afraid she would fall asleep, she eventually got up with a sigh and walked to the kitchen, where she found him preparing tea. He had put his trousers back on, although he was still shirtless.

“Hi”, she said in a sweet voice, sitting on the edge of the table.

Jason turned to her holding two mugs up. “Which one?”

She pointed to the one to the left. “I might _steal_ it, be careful”. It felt out of context in that lonely, cold kitchen, with its big red polka dots.

“Please do. I honestly don’t know how it ended here. Might’ve been a Christmas gift I had no one else to give”, he replied, but what he didn’t say is that he would’ve trashed it in the bin as soon as she got out - lest he saw it again, lest it brought memories.

“Well, in this case, thank you”, she said, cheerful.

He poured their tea then leant back into the counter, watching her blow on the hot liquid, holding the mug with both hands. He had to look away, shield his heart from the pixie-sized woman sitting on his table, wearing his shirt, drinking from a mug he owned, so brutally natural and beautiful.

“Would you like music?”, he asked, almost afraid that she would read his mind if he spoke any words; but she didn’t notice anything, - he was just being an idiot, he scolded himself, _you can’t read anyone’s mind_ \- she simply nodded.

He went to the hi-fi, inserted a jazz disc. “It’s the best at night time”, he told her.

Sarah Vaughan started singing, much to Mary’s liking. She put her mug beside her on the table and hopped down, walking tiptoe to him.

“A dance, mister Whale?”, she asked, encircling his waist with her arms.

A puff of laughter came from him, and they started swaying casually, negligent of the rhythm and tempo. Her fingertips absentmindedly traced lines on the small of his back, and Jason kissed her cheekbone, just under her eye, the soft skin of his lips gently pressing against the smooth, polished-looking flesh covering her bones.

 

He watched her get dressed from a careful distance; she checked her hair in the reflection of the oven and took the mug from the table.

Jason walked her to the door, both hesitant and relieved to let her go.

“Thank you”, Mary murmured at an inch from his face, and kissed him goodbye - a long, sweet, slow kiss, given with eyes closed. He felt the mug she held pressing coldly against his back, her other hand at the nape of his neck. It was too little; if it had to be a goodbye, if they were not to see each other again, then it had to be better than that. So Jason took her tiny waist firmly in both hands and decidedly drew her to him, deepening the kiss - it felt like forever, but then they parted, and it was gone.

Light-headed, she rested her forehead on his chest for a moment. “I have to go”, she whispered, almost inaudible. “Goodbye”.

 

 

She bought him a cat - a little wild, fluffy, alive thing to keep him company, to get home to. He appreciated it immensely, though smiling bitterly.

 

The card on the flowers he sent her stated “to the finest woman I ever knew”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for duskendales and aurilly and the few people who read the first chapter on tumblr and loved it - i love you back! also, reviews would be great. And forgive me for my first smut scene.

**Author's Note:**

> for Dilly again, because it's me and her on the ship, and she supported this fic without having read a word of it since the beginning. You're my wonderful pal, Dills, and this is for you.


End file.
